


Tear in My Heart

by anovelblogwrites



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Hunger Games, Established Relationship, Slice of Life, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 22:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18725833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anovelblogwrites/pseuds/anovelblogwrites
Summary: Madge falls asleep within the first few minutes of their trip back to Virginia. Which means Gale has a lot of time to think about Madge, home, and the government.





	Tear in My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> hi so i just remembered how much i shipped gale and madge in like ninth grade and then i realized how //quintessentially gale// the bridge of ‘tear in my heart’ by 21p is…. so this lil contemporary a.u. happened. pls enjoy

_You fell asleep in my car, I drove the whole time,_  
_but that’s okay, I’ll just avoid the holes so you sleep fine._  
_I’m driving, here I sit, cursing my government,_  
_for not using my taxes to fill holes with more cement._

\--- 

He normally hates it here. But on a holiday weekend, there are no future congressmen wearing topsiders and Rolexes to look down on him--no matter how much taller Gale might be. There was just Madge, standing outside the residence hall, wearing leggings and one of his flannels. Her blonde hair falling out of its lopsided ponytail.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she teases as soon as she closes the door behind her. The lavender scent of her lotion slowly permeates the dusty air in the cab of the truck. One of her fingers pokes his cheek, which he’s sure is drooping slightly in a frown. 

He twists the muscles in his face until he’s flashing Madge a terrifyingly large grin. She laughs, and the grimace relaxes into a genuine smile at the sound of it. Everything she does is like music, and he could listen to it for the rest of his life. She leans across the center console and kisses the spot she prodded. 

“I’ve missed you,” she says. 

It hasn’t been that long since his last trip to D.C., but Gale finds that it’s not just his competitive nature that has him insisting, “Missed you more.” 

As soon as Gale throws the truck into reverse, Madge starts fiddling with the radio. It doesn’t take long for her to settle on a classical station. Gale doesn’t mind. Not because he shares her enthusiasm for the genre, but because he likes watching her fingers dance along her thighs or the center console, playing along. He’s not sure she even notices she’s doing it. 

They barely make it across the Potomac before Madge’s fingers fall limply in her lap, with her head against the window. Her eyes are closed and her mouth hangs open just a little. Gale shakes his head and chuckles quietly to himself. Mere minutes ago she was insisting that eight hours was way too long for him to be driving in one day, so they should take turns. 

Gale turns the radio down and leans back a little more in his seat. Despite the morning sun that makes his eyes burn when he turns his head, he keeps looking at Madge. She sleeps peacefully through it, the light making her cheeks glow. The sight of it is more distracting than it should be but there’s not another car visible for miles, so he lets himself be distracted. 

Besides, Gale knows these roads--every dip, curve and pothole--like the back of his hand. He guides the truck in wide arcs, occasionally crossing the median, to avoid the sudden depressions in the asphalt. Normally, he wouldn’t go so far out of his way to steer clear of the them. His truck is old and well-acquainted with the sorely neglected county backroads. 

But Madge, he reminds himself, is not. The streets leading up to the Colonial castle she grew up in upstate are coated in pavement so fresh it still shines in the sunlight. As soft under his tires as the pillow he wishes he could stuff between Madge’s temple and the cool glass of the window. She seems to vibrate against it, even on the smoothest stretches of road. Hitting a pothole would undoubtedly startle her awake and rattle her teeth. 

Hell, Gale wouldn’t be surprised if it gave her a concussion. 

So he diligently swerves around every one, occasionally cussing to himself about deteriorating infrastructure and bootless state government. As far as he’s concerned, taxation is theft if he can’t see the results. And all he can see for miles is crumbling cement and fading yellow paint. The seemingly dubious way he’s steering reminds Gale of Haymitch Abernathy trying to get home after last call, which is the last conjecture Gale needs someone like Officer Thread, the new highway patrolman, to make. 

His cruiser is thankfully absent from its usual spot: the old gas station located at the entrance of town. Right where the highway becomes Main Street, and the speed limit dips from fifty-five miles an hour to twenty with very little warning. From the corner of the parking lot, Thread can also monitor the street leading up to the high school. He’s often parked there at 8:20 on Monday mornings, waiting for the first unlucky sophomore that’s running late. 

Rory, despite only having his license for six months, has become very familiar with Officer Thread. 

The high school was flanked by two fields. Set behind the building was the dilapidated baseball field he’d once commanded as the starting pitcher. The new one was more visible from the road and much grander than their community could afford. They were still paying for the bleachers that gleamed under the lights and the weedless outfield. 

Until he was old enough to drive Dad’s old truck, Gale biked this stretch of road every summer. His bat bag slamming against his side with every turn of the pedals as he passed the same small houses with neglected flower beds and window boxes. Except for the Everdeen’s. The house across the street had more garden than grass, and was carefully maintained by Mrs. Everdeen and her youngest daughter, Prim. 

Like the rest of the region, the Everdeen’s garden has shriveled in the November chill, but Gale is sure that a cobbler made from the peaches growing behind their house is in Mom’s oven now. It’s Madge’s favorite dessert. 

The kitchen window is cracked open to let the heat out, which is how Gale knows his mother has been in the kitchen since he left this morning, just as the sun was starting to climb over the hills.

Posy’s smiling face appears in the gap just as Gale pulls into the driveway. There’s no doubt in his mind that his little sister has been not-so-patiently waiting for the loud roar of the truck’s engine. 

Gale pulls the key out of the ignition before gently shaking Madge’s shoulder. She barely lifts her head off the window. Her blue eyes are half-lidded and unfocused, “We’re home already?” 

Whatever teasing comment he was about to make got caught in his throat, as everything inside him seemed to swell. She tends to have this effect on him, without even realizing it. Something as simple as a smile could be enough to jolt his heart out of rhythm. And now, he feels a burst of warmth inside his chest, all because of a sleepy, unfiltered question. 

The screen door swings open, and his siblings thunder down the porch steps to greet them. Posy bounces on her toes next to Vick, who rests a hand on her head in an attempt to keep her still, with limited success. Posy hasn’t stopped talking about Madge coming to stay since Halloween ended. Rory knocks on Madge’s window and waves, before reaching into the bed of the truck for her suitcase and swinging it over his shoulder. 

“Yeah,” he says, feeling himself smile, “we’re home.”


End file.
